2009-02-04 - Blue Turns Purple
2009-02-05 – Blue Turns Purple TIME: Thu Feb 05 13:33:15 2009 -- This is Game time, or PDT. TIME: 21,373:2:21 Coruscant: Core of the 'Public Cantina The heavy brown reek that fills this area of City does not make exception for this ramshackle building, adding to the clouds of smoke from the Cantina's patrons. In fact, the smoke adds a scent to repulsive smell that makes this little hovel a far more bearable place to be than the open walkways without. The walls of this grimy den seem to have been fused together from the battered wreckage of starship hulls and durasteel plating from old building foundations. Light is provided from a confused assortment of many-colored lamps hanging from the ceiling by power cables. Every so often these flicker in unison, momentarily increasing the oppressive gloom of the place. Along one wall three old plasteel desks have been converted into bartops doubling as a dancing runway. A bored and sullen bartender sits behind these desks half-asleep and wholly uninterested in the antics of the Cantina's dancers. Across the floor several round tables have been placed, and in the corners several booths lie hidden in shadows. A small portion of the Cantina has been curtained off with some filthy tattered cloth, behind which an old Sabacc table stands ready for gamblers. Despite the atmosphere of the place it's patrons are remarkably varied. Rich-looking off-worlders (often with breathing masks) mingle with local scum, discussing who knows what in the shadows of this despicable establishment. NO POLICE: This place is a haven for criminals and seldom manned by IC Police. See '+help no-police' for details. ---- Raziel A tall humanoid standing straight at a little over two meters in height and weighing around seventy five kilograms of lean, trim muscle, this Falleen is a younger specimen of his species, barely fifty years of age and comparable to a human in their early twenties. Nearly human in an exotic way, the vaguely reptillian Falleen has dark green skin, smooth and unmarred in any way; blueish black hair is pulled back, cascading down his neck, and yellow pupils flecked with brilliant greends and reds peer out from beneath his hairless brow with an easy arrogance born of self-assurance. Slightly red-tinged shadows rest underneath, the sign of the weary. Teeth are a perfect white, and his chin is most often lifted in another sign of confidence. His stance is most often langorously fluid, noble bearing and ease apparent; his gait is cool and flowing, natural grace exuding with every movement and gesture. His voice is oily, smooth, and cool, the barest whispers of sibilance pervading speech that lilts with education. A black mesh expensively tailored, Vanixian designed clothing is pulled over his lithe form, covering him from neck to toe. Contrasting the body suit's simple elegance, there are black plasteel plates of blast armour set upon the material, matte black and without a single glint of light. Streaks of silver are set in a foreign design, webbing across the black, and upon his left breastplate lies the sigil of House Da'Sthess; upon his right, a stylized ancient sword and shield sigil overtop a planet. Long black silk gloves cover his hands, flexible and protected by segmented blast pieces; heavy greaves cover his legs, though articulated for ease of quick movement. Over it all rests an expensive silk robe lined in a heavier material, artfully arranged over his shoulders, and on the crown of his head rests the hood of the cloak. It's pushed back to allow his facial features to be seen. A utility belt hangs around his waist, with containers, pockets, and a few sharp weapons sheathed and hanging down within easy reach. A little comsys bud is near his neck, and there are a few odd perforations near his left wrist. STATUS: Raziel is a male Falleen in excellent condition. He is unarmed and wears BlasTech Articulated Blast Gloves, BlasTech Heavy Greaves, a BlasTech Articulated Blast Armor, and a BlasTech Full Blast Helm. Cirshi Standing 1.6 meters, the woman is wire thin, her body is a line of long limbs like a newborn colt, fragile and delicate as china, promising to break if bumped too hard and stared upon too long. Large, wide yellow eyes peer out from behind the overhang of pink bangs that contrasts against the muted, baby blue pigment of her skin. Pink hair is pulled back in a half-hearted attempt at pig tails, which is to say that there is only one on the left side of her head, pink hair at the right side hanging lose to her shoulder, except for a few pink tufts sticking out at an odd angle, trapped in the last loose coils of her hair band. Her skin is smooth, two thin yellow lines (whether tattoos or a natural coloration is hard to say) creating a simple rainbow effect along both cheekbones. The thin line of a scar crosses her forehead starting over her left temple before ending just shy of the middle of her right eyebrow, though it doesn't appear recent. Her expression is one of cheerful distraction, lips pursed in a faint smile. A thin, scooped neck shirt, in alternating bands of light green and yellow is visible under the sleeveless grey-blue vest, dominated by grease stains and scorch marks, leaving blue skinned arms bare. Equally grease-stained and scorched grey-blue canvas pants hug her legs, a number of metal tool clips and bulging pouches sport a hint of used tools and cast-off wires based on the remnants visible. A heavy, worn tool belt rests askew on her hips, a pair of heavy and well worn boots on her feet, the heel adding a good inch to her height. Fingerless black gloves cover her palms, rugged grips visible on the palms when she gestures with longer fingered hands, though a second pair of full gloves hangs at the back of her tool belt. STATUS: Cirshi is a female Human in excellent condition. She is unarmed and wears a Flak Vest. Ginovae Her hair is a myriad of darkness, at one angle brown, another blue, another black, even purple, the dull, matte version of a raven's feather; the strands fall straight and loose around her ending around mid-back. The features of her face seemed soft; the smooth forehead, the gentle arch of eyebrows, the soft curve of cheeks and slightly rounded chin, the full lips, replete with the slight pout to the lower lip, the slender sweep of the crooked bridge of her nose to the quiet flare of nostrils and the slightly rounded tip, the gentle hollow beneath... And yet, there was something sharp about the overall combination. Perhaps it was the fact that the line of jaw, cheek and brow, were clearly visible in the slender face, or perhaps it is the deep set eyes of steel blue, too cold, too old for her face, shadowed in dark black and silver shadow above, a thin line of kohl beneath, the lashes lengthened, accentuated with mascara. The girl is about 5'8", her build long, slender, a hint of lean muscle to her frame, but still almost too slender, yet the hourglass curve of her body is undeniable. She is dressed in worn black canvas pants almost of a military style with angled hem lines and a multitude of pockets, a black ribbed a-line tank top, and a short black leather jacket that ends mid-rib cage, and a comfortable pair of charcoal grey combat style boots that come to mid-calf. Fingerless gloves of leather and mesh, a single silver necklace that disappears beneath her tank top, and a silver stud on the left side of her nose, a silver ring on the right side of her bottom lip; these complete her attire. STATUS: Ginovae is a female Human in excellent condition. She is unarmed and wears a Jerba Leather Wrap. Gionarro This human stands at just around 1.73m(5'9"), his lines long and lean, his frame toned and trim. His hair, when visible, is short, a dark brown hue that is cropped close to his scalp, just a little longer on top than the sides and back. The features of his face are smooth, his forehead rounded and long, intersected with thick arched brows, sloping cheeks, and slightly elongated jaw ending in a strong chin. A slender nose cuts between the deep-set eyes of steel blue, slight shadows cast beneath them. Thin, but soft lips finish his features, accented with a thin line of stubble along his jaw and lips and chin. His features are currently shadowed beneath the hood of his jacket, a moderately thick fabric lined with bold white stripes at regular intervals, the interior lined with solid white. Mostly unzipped, a black button up high collar dress shirt is revealed beneath, though it too is left mostly unbuttoned to reveal the smooth, toned chest and abdomen. Coarse denim jeans fit loosely around his hips, cinched into place with a military style belt, the wide legs of the jeans randomly flaring or bunching around his long legs, mostly covering the worn boots of dark brown leather. Thick, but small silver hoops nestle his earlobes, and his right hand bears a simple silver band on the ring finger, and a wide ring of silver in a v-design rests on his index finger, glittering with a set of five clear gems embedded into the metal. STATUS: Gionarro is a male Human in excellent condition. He is unarmed and wears a Flak Vest. Cirshi sits at one of the tables along the wall, her face somewhat paler than usual, darker blue rings under her eyes. A mug of caf rests on the table, fingers of both hands wrapped around it, half-lidded eyes liger on the dark surface. Ginovae's arrival occurred only within fifteen minutes or so of Cirshi's, though judging by the arched brow and bemused smile that occurs as she catches sight of the blue-skinned girl upon entrance, likely coincidental. She crosses to the bar first, a few credits exchanged for a mug, and a carafe of the dark brew they claimed to be caf, before she finds her way to the table, plunking the pot of coffee onto the table, taking care not to do so with her usual flair, and the noise that went with it. "Morning." She says, with a quick grin, as she pulls a chair to the table and turns its back to the table, settling into it in a straddle position. "How you doing?" She questions, leaning forward to top off Cirshi's cup before filling her own. Cirshi doesn't notice anyone at all, Vae included, until the twin sets the carafe on the table surface, drawing her gaze up along the arm to the Bringer of Caf. She manages a smile, weak and a little pained, taking a half second longer to murmur a faint, "Morning," back to her. Her gaze drops to her mug as its topped off, reaching out to a small chipped dish with an assortment of sweeteners, taking one at random to add to her mug, using the wrapping to stir afterwards. "I feel like I was in a crash landing without restraints... How much did I drink?" Ginovae chuckles softly, reaching for a couple packets of the sweeteners for her own caf, shaking them compacted before the contents are dumped into the black brew, dissolving away in a slow whirlpool. "Well, three half-glasses of Corellian whiskey. I imagine that'd equate to about... a dozen shots, for you, or so." She says, with a low laugh. Raziel enters the Cantina through the back door. Cirshi rubs her forehead, wincing slightly s she lifts her cup slowly, taking a long swallow. "Ugh," she moans, "just three? Three? Well, 12 shots, yeah... I guess..." Her gaze lifts, worry in her eyes, "Oh God, I didn't do anything stupid did I?" Pollution mixes with more pollution, dank air of the Reek intermingling with tabbac smoke and worse as it swirls about, so thick it's visible. A humanoid in polished black and red and green blast armour steps in, faceplate up enough to expose patrician Falleen features as Raziel makes his way rather meanderingly toward the bar. A light, fluid sort of step inward, and he's leaning up against it. It's not long before a glass of water, of all things, is placed nearby. “Mmm." Ginovae muses in response to Cirshi's concerned inquiry, a sparkle of amusement in her steel blue eyes as she considers drawing out the suspense, before a mere moment passes, and she shakes her head with a smile. "No, other than a few uncoordinated spasms of coughing fits, you did just fine." She says, with a quiet chuckle to her companion, the two sitting across from each other at a side table. Ginovae straddles a chair, whose back has been pinned to the edge of the table, each of the two with a cup of caf, and a carafe of the dark brew between them. A sideways glance is given at the sound of grating metal of the door opening behind them, a studying glance to the green-skinned figure, a brief assessment of build and stature, of attire and equipment, watching Raziel with open curiosity before she turns her attention back to Cirshi. "Have you taken anything?" She asks, her head tilting to the side a bit to study the ragged features of her compatriot. Cirshi didn’t' even know she was holding her breath until she lets it out again when she hears she hadn't done anything foolish during the previous night's round of drinking. She lifts her mug, murmuring, "Coughing fits I can live with... I just, I can't do one of those things gain where I wake up on a different ship and two systems away fro where I started the night..." She sips her caf, adding afterwards with a glance to her companion, "I still don't know how that happened, or why I traded my astromech for a probe droid with a bad motivator." She sighs, looking across the cantina, noting the newly arrived figure as well. "I still miss X5. Oh well." Yellow eyes drift back to Ginovae from her seat towards the back of the table near the wall, "Hmm? Oh yeah, I raided the med kit. I took a couple of tabs and a patch for the nausea. But I swear, every time a grav goes by I want to shoot myself." Silence continues on from the direction of the Falleen up at the bar, faceplate of his blast helmet still up. Two fingers curl lazily about the stem of his glass, lifting the vessel up to his lips; water is sipped; the glass is put down once more. It's repeated every few minutes, as he leans an elbow on the counter-- a lazy posturing, really, indicative that he's waiting for something. Or someone. Yellow pupils, flecked with brilliant reds and bright greens, certainly do flick through the crowds of nikto, human, quarrens, sentients and nonsentients and the cybernetically enhanced, straying toward the front door of the Cantina more often than not. "Well, I'd much prefer you didn't. It's hard enough to find a good tech, much less one that is willing to put up with Gionarro." Ginovae says dryly, both hands wrapped around her mug, bringing it to her lips for a slow, long swallow. Somehow, she resists the urge to wrinkle her nose at the quality and instead sets it back onto the counter, reaching again for the stack of sweeteners on the side of the table. "We wouldn't let anyone take off with you, Blue. Well, not unless it seemed you wouldn't mind too much." She says, with a wink. "Even then, we'd come hunting you down after a day or two." She says, re-stirring the brew and taking another testing sip, a slight shrug of her leather clad shoulders. "Least it's not three times recycled." A slight pause. "Well, at least I can pretend it isn't." She says, with a small furrow of her brows. Gionarro enters the Cantina through the gloomy doorway. Cirshi's characteristic smile returns despite her hangover at the compliment, shining it in Ginovae’s direction. "Aww, that's sweet of you to say. and 'narro's not too bad once you know not to rewire something without telling him... How'd I know he'd use the waste unit before I was done getting the spare part..." She lifts her mug, seemingly unaffected by the horrible taste so long as it's not cold and two days old. Ginovae's comment about her being dragged off though cause a splutter as she swallows her caf wrong, coughing a couple of times to clear her throat as her cheeks take on a faint, but noticeable purplish cast. She smiles in embarrassment as she glances at her companion quickly, then averts her eyes to the mess on the table which she begins to mop up with a napkin that probably should have been thrown away a week or five ago. "I, um, well... yeah..." she stammers, eyes flicking back to Ginovae briefly. "See? Now imagine that reaction three times, each a little more than the last, and you've got last night in a nutshell." Ginovae says, unable to pass up the opportunity to rib the mechanic, a wide grin belying any harshness that the words might hold. "And you know Gion. Forewarned is forearmed, and all that." She says with a flippant wave of a hand, another swallow of the bitter drink taken. She and Cirshi sit at a side table across from each other, Vae straddling a chair with its back to the edge of the table while Cirshi sops up the spilt caf, while Raziel rests languidly at the bar, scanning the room and the door occasionally with the air of expectancy. Cirshi pushes the moist ad well used bit of paper to the far side of the table, leaving a wet smear of bitter smelling liquid in its wake. She begins wiping her hands on her pants, adding another color to the mess of grease stains and scorch marks without a care, "Well, if that's all I did," she says distractedly. Hands dry, she glances up, a confused look clouding her expression. "Did someone ask me why my hair was pink last night? I get this weird feeling someone did. Why isn't nobody knows Pantorans, hmm? So weird." She glances towards the bar and the Falleen there. "Sort of like that guy," she murmurs, nodding in Raziel's direction without any attempt to hide her attention, "I mean, what's a guy like that doing here, hmm?" Raziel reaches a hand up to idly tap at the small bud on his neck, speaking quietly into his comsys before glancing through the crowds once more. His eyes stop to rest on Cirshi just moments after she nods his way, though his gaze travels on after a moment. A dark figure descends into the cantina, a faint red ember glowing from the depths of its hood before the being stops, and the ember flares for a moment. Pale hands slip from overlong sleeves to brush back the striped hood revealing Gionarro to those who bother watching entryways. Reaching up to pluck his cigarette from his lips, he flashes a smile across to 'Vae at the table, then moves quietly across the room, slipping up behind the hung-over Pantoran and leaning down with lips pursed to blow cool air over the back of her neck. "Hullo, Blue. I'll always remember last night, thank you." One of Vae's slender hands rise, fingers slipping beneath the veil of raven-hued strands to brush along the edge of her ear at the soft buzz, though her hand falls away again to join the other around her caf mug in the same smooth movement. Her head turns, at the sound of the door again, a warm smile offered to the newcomer, her pale steel blue eyes lingering on Gionarro for a moment before she glances back to her cup, drawing it again to her lips for a painful sip of the caf. "I imagine he's waiting for someone, or looking for someone, or something, or any combination thereof, given his stance." Ginovae replies to Cirshi at her question in regards to the Falleen. "And yes, we made a... friend, last night. He asked you several times if that was your natural hair color, so no worried, you aren't losing your mind." She says, with a half grin, which is almost immediately hidden again behind her mug at Gionarro's greeting to the recuperating mechanic, though more to hide her smirk than to actually brave another drink, not trusting herself not to end in a coughing fit that their pink-haired companion seemed so fond of. Cirshi's cheeks flush into a faintly purple tint as she feels the cool air at her neck and the whispered comment, her back stiffening. "Wha-what?" she stammers in nervous embarrassment. Yellow eyes, wide with alarm, flashes over her shoulder before fixing on Ginovae, silently pleading for anything, lips silently mouthing, "I thought you said nothing foolish?" Both of Vae's hands move this time, raising in the classic 'don't shoot' defense stance, the cup abandoned on the table in front of her. "Hey, I can only be held responsible for keeping track of you while I'm awake, Blue. Besides, what'd be foolish about that?" She asks, with a glance from the Pantoran to her twin, appraising him openly. "I mean, you said yourself, he's not too bad if he's warned in advance, right?" She counters, glancing back to Cirshi. Gionarro trails a fingertip across the blushing Pantoran's shoulders and passes the cigarette off to his sister, then departs for the bar, placing an order for his own caf. Reaching up to scratch his stubbled chin, he looks around the room, noting the new faces amongst the ones recognized. Cirshi's brow furrows, a mortified look on her face, one arm crossing her waist in her lap. She sits silently in the wake of Vae's comment, eyes shifting only as Gionarro departs for the bar, her eyes following him for a moment before she turns and buries her face in her hands and promptly lowers her face to the table surface, murmuring under her breath, "OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod..." Her ears begin to turn a touch purple as well now. Raziel spares a glance for the human nearby, as he continues to lean against the bar. Raziel remains silent, still, neither showing any shuffling of feet nor idle trappings of ennui. Just stillness. Ginovae is more than content to pluck the offered cigarette from Gionarro's fingers, the end pinched slightly as it is pulled to her lips, a long and slow drag taken from it, before the lingering cylinder of ash is flicked into the embedded ashtray in the center of the table. Her gaze dances between the departing figure and the blushing Cirshi, keeping a fair poker face in play as her brother gathers a cup to share in the consumption of the bitter caf. Again, her other hand moves to wrap around her own mug, drawing it to her lips to take a sip, before it is replaced and another, more shallow pull on the cigarette is taken. "You really don't recall any of it?" She asks, sounding somewhat amused, and slight bewildered, a glance cast again to Gionarro, and back again. "Pity, I've been told he's worth remembering." She adds, with a faint smirk, as the facade borders on breaking, almost feeling too much pity and amusement to continue the ploy. Almost... Cirshi shakes her head, or more accurately rolls it back and forth on the table surface, answering in the negative. "No," she whimpers, "I don't remember anything... beyond singing... I think I was singing, oh God, I was hoping I was just singing..." The extra poke at her prompts her head to rise, her skin fully a shade darker now as she stares wide eyed, a hushed, panicked whisper sent to Ginovae as she leans closer to her, "Vae!" She glances towards Gionarro, brow furrowed, "Oh God, we work together..." She glances back at Ginovae, adding, "and he's your brother..." She covers her face, "I never... not really... I don't even remember it..." Lithe fingers wrap around the cup of steaming caf, the clink of credits landing on the clean-ish surface of the table left in the wake of his movement. "Much Obliged" is offered the departing man as he returns to his perch to resume napping. A respectful distance is kept from the armored sentinel as Gionarro makes his way back to the table, snagging a chair of his own and inverting it to straddle, claiming a place between the two women. Looking at Cirshi, he blushes a bit and says, "I picked up something for you on the way over, it's not much, but... " a foil wrapped package set on the table before the Pantoran. Ginovae's hand that holds the cigarette rises, the back of it pressed to her lips briefly, smoothing the grin away, replacing it with an expression of concern and mild worry appropriate to the pink-haired mechanic's panicked reaction. "Well, I always knew a time would come when some pretty little thing would steal him away from me. And, really, better you than someone I don't know, right?" She asks, leaning forward to offer a reassuring pat to the girl's shoulder, her hand slipping back to her mug as Gionarro joins them. "Well, at least I know why you were in such a hurry to hit the marketplace this morning, Gion." She says, offering a smile to her brother as he settles into his seat in a mirrored position of her own relaxed form, the last of the cigarette offered back to him. Cirshi hardly looks comforted by the pat at her shoulder, uncertainty and a strong desire to remember the previous night. A faint whimper escapes her as she retreats to her mug of caf, wishing it were something stronger. Or a memory drug. Maybe both. She sets her mug down, an anxious glance flashed toward Gionarro as the package is set on the table beside her, eyes flashing from one twin to the next before back to the wrapped item. She reaches out and begins tearing the foil aside to reveal whatever it might be, whispering a feeble, "Thanks," that comes across more like a question than anything else. The package is warm to the touch, and when Cirshi rips it open, steam comes roiling out carrying an aromatic scent of warm seasoned bread. Gion smirks and reaches out to pat her shoulder lightly. "No worries Blue, it's just breakfast, or maybe lunch. I couldn't find anywhere that actually cooked on warmed stones, but this smelled best when I was perusing, so fit the requirements of being hangover friendly." Cirshi seems a bit relieved to find it's nothing more dangerous than food. Course, she hasn't eaten anything this morning, hoping the nausea patch would kick in. She smiles, a bit wider than before, nodding in thanks to Gionarro. "Oh, thanks, 'narro." Thing fingers tear a piece of the bread, popping it into her mouth. Her smile widens, "Oh, God, that tastes good," she says as she swallows, pushing some of her unease aside like most anything negative after only a few seconds. She picks another piece and pops it into her mouth, offering the bread to everyone. "This tastes so wonder--" She pauses, mouth working at the bread a moment. She blinks, a nervous discomfort on her face, "This has astriphan seed in it..." She covers her mouth, murmuring, "Oh God..." She scrambles to her feet, eyes flicking around the room then to the exit, "I gotta go... Now!" With little more than a wave she does all but burst into an all out run for the door and out without another glance. "Well, that was sweet of you." Ginovae observes from behind her mug, another swallow of the now lukewarm caf taken, peering at the opened package over the rim of her cup. "Just the one?" She asks, glancing to Gionarro, studying the lines of his jacket and pockets as the smell of the bread rises her way, though her attention quickly draws to the pink-haired girl as she dashes for the exit, wincing slightly. "Oh... kay." She says, a hint of concern on her features, before she glances back to Gionarro. "I'm going to guess astriphan seed and Pantoran's don't mix." She says, before she looks back to the door that the mechanic had made her rapid retreat through. "Think she'll be okay?" She asks, without looking back just yet. Gionarro plucks the abandoned bread and slides it over between he and his sister, pinching a bit of the warm pastry off and sniffing it experimentally. "I'm not sure.. I had a sample before I bought this, and didn't feel anything strange on my way over." Popping the morsel in his mouth, he chews thoughtfully and shrugs. "Tastes just the same as before, so whatever it is, it is apparently not allergy inducing in us. From her reaction, I'd guess that she's either going to purge it, or it's going to purge itself." Ginovae takes a last drag from the end of the cig before it is crushed out into the ashtray, one hand reaching to tear off a piece of the warm bread, the other coming up to land a resounding smack to his jacketed shoulder. "That was just mean." She says, though her eyes openly glint with amusement, as she leans into the back of the chair in front of her, fingers joining to tear off a smaller piece of the bread and tuck it into her cheek. "How long are you going to let her panic?" Gionarro says, "All I said was that I'd never forget last night. If she took the statement to imply something risqué had occurred that she cannot recall and that she panicked at it having occurred. I don't know whether to be insulted that she considers me panic worthy, or praised that she wishes she could remember. In any case, not terribly long. I wonder if astriphan seeds are a Pantoran fertility treatment. That might explain her sprinting out of here, since she was already panicked over what she can't recall." "God, I hadn't even thought about that. Did you see the expression on her face though?" Ginovae asks, mirthfully, tearing off another piece of bread to chew thoroughly and swallow, followed by a sip of caf. "Poor thing. I think she was more panicked over what I would think, or how it would affect the working relationship, though that might not be much to assuage your pride." She says, with a light chuckle. "So, while you were out shopping for who knows what -- this bread is actually pretty good, by the way -- I managed to make a few new friends. And garnish some information on our friend from last night while I was at it." She adds. The water is finally drained, and Raziel lightly replaces the glass on the bar counter. Such an elegant sort of bearing for such a dingy dive of a Cantina, really, and then the Falleen turns yellow pupils onto two humans sitting nearby. He stares, quite literally, and unblinkingly-- no attempt to hide his sudden interest at all given. Gionarro sips his caf, then joins in dismantling the bread with his sister, morsels plucked from the tender insides, leaving the crust to become a mere shell of its former self. "Nothing in particular, just familiarizing myself with the area, the bread is two blocks down, one block over from there, so you know. Will have to warn Cirshi to avoid it." He glances at his sister, a brow raising as he brushes a hand back over his scalp. ‘’’Kinetic - What'd you find out, and how long has the Falleen been scoping you out?’’’ "Good to know. I found a few places that pay out decent for scrap parts and the like, there's enough laying around in the under city that I'm confident that we can keep ourselves at least fed, ’til something pans out." Ginovae responds with, a turn of her head bringing her gaze to meet the stare of the Falleen openly in return, watching him for a moment before she looks back to her brother. "Made the acquaintance of a fellow at one of the bank branches today. A physician at one of the clinics in the City, offered a checkup and such, on the house. I'm thinking we should've made our way here long ago, if all the folks here pan out to be as... generous as I've seen so far." She says with a grin, sitting back in the chair slightly, and again her hand rises to brush against her cheek and up along her ear, a few stray strands tucked behind, a mild shrug of the opposing shoulder as she glances to the caf, and then back to Gionarro. ‘’’Kinetic - Seems our friend Angelus is pretty well known, Republic Guard from what I've gathered. Not very well liked, at least around these parts. Can't imagine why. And, it seems he's managed to get himself a duel for tonight, on Byss. Thought we might check it out, see him in action, as it were. Also a chance to make a few creds, they've already got a pool running. As for the Falleen, he hasn't been paying much attention to anyone in particular, rather everyone at large, til just now.’’’ Raziel's gaze lingers on Gionarro for but a few moments before coming to rest on Ginovae, and the flat, emotionless expression flickers. Lips pull up at the left corner but slightly, and the Falleen saunters toward the table with a lifted chin. His head cants three and a third degrees to the right before an oily voice bubbles from between thin lips. "Yes?" Gionarro looks up at the Falleen as he approaches the table, another swallow taken of the caf to wash down the bread. An appraising look, tinged with a bit of envy absorbs what armor peeks out from beneath the cloak, prompting a wistful sigh from the youth. ‘’’Kinetic - Well, that would be why he didn't fit in all too well. I would guess that the people he has us looking out for would then be on the wrong side of the law, far as he's concerned. I'd say ditch him, but we can't afford to say no to credits currently. Just have to be more careful about not getting caught.’’’ Ginovae's head tilts, her body turning slightly as she straddles the chair, bringing herself somewhat more in line with the Falleen, her gaze sliding up to meet his, a seemingly friendly smile offered as he draws closer. "Just returning the… greeting." She answers, with a steady and open tone, a small shrug of her shoulders added to the words. Her right hand rises from the table, and is offered up and outwards towards the man as she pushes herself up with her other hand to bring herself to a standing position. "Name's Ginovae and this is my brother, Gionarro." She says, a nod indicating the seated figure beside her. "It's a pleasure." "To think, I thought you were staring my way," Raziel responds with a light flick of his left hand, wrist snapping in the lazy flourish. "Lord Raziel Da'Sthess. An absolute pleasure, surely, to have my acquaintance. Neither of you are /shooting/ at one another, as of yet, so I thought you seemed a touch out of place for this. . . Rather base cantina. Considering, really, that I have not heard a blaster shot in the entirety of my time here, as of yet." As if his words summoned the altercation, a sudden PBZZRAT PBBBZRAT and a bright flash ensue from a booth in the corner. Two Rodians run out, gibbering happily as one clutches a bad. A Trandoshan lies on the abandoned table, bleeding ichor out. Raziel doesn't glance over. Gionarro's eyes follow the Rodians as they depart, then slip back to Raziel. "That would be the first one that I've heard in here, which does explain much about the decor and clientele. I hope that our failure to perforate each other isn't a bad character trait in your opinion, while Vae can be exasperating at times, I've never had the urge to blast her." Ginovae's gaze turns, at the distinctive sound, but rather than turning to the source of the altercation instead flickers to Gionarro, and even then only a moment before she brings her steel blue eyes to rest again upon Raziel, a hint of amusement glittering in her gaze, her hand falling back to her side. "You thought correctly, of course Lord Da'Sthess. I do hope my... attentions did not cause offense." She says smoothly, her other hand rising now to gesture to the empty chair on the other side of her. "And while I may advocate sibling rivalry, I have not yet found it necessary to rise to the level of such that requires bodily harm." She adds to Gionarro's response, with a flicker of a smile. "Perhaps it is only a matter of time, no?" "/Quite/ a shame, though you may sleep easier knowing you have not lost any status in my eyes," Raziel drawls out in a dry sort of tone, suddenly smirking just a touch before rather abruptly turning to head toward the back door. He's sliding and slipping rather gracefully through the Cantina's occupants by the time Ginovae even speaks, and Raziel turns his head to show off perfect teeth and call back a response, "Oh, I hope not. Blasters are /ever/ so uncivilized." A quiet chuckle accompanies the Falleen’s departure, Ginovae turning back to Gionarro. “Shall we go make ourselves presentable for the duel, then, brother?” Category:February 2009 RP Logs